Crimson Rain
by disintegrate
Summary: She was supposed to be dead. Fortunately or unfortunately, you hadn't killed her.
1. Prologue

**Author: **disintegrate

**Title: **Crimson Rain

**Chapter:** A Clichéd Beginning

**Genre: **supernatural/romance

**Summary: **She was supposed to be dead. Fortunately or unfortunately, you hadn't killed her.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Nanoha or its characters. In fact, I suppose this is completely AU in the way I might as well have used any sort of characters to fit its roles.

**Warning: **Expect violent themes, fights, vampire like people who are not vampires. Demons, I suppose, would be a more correct word for them. But, this world of mine is completely unique. It doesn't take place in any well known realm. Just, well, you'll see as we go along, ne?

* * *

><p>Her eyes changed from red, red wine to a soft shade of lavender. Her breath was heavy, ragged. Even their heart couldn't stop beating wildly from the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins. There was nothing in the world like this feeling,<p>

_Beside her lay a familiar blonde, their features filled with warmth, trust. Forever frozen in that pose, only to rot with time._

and she knew that she would never have that feeling again.

She stood and took in the smell of her _prey_. There was nothing more to say. There were no more words that she could exchange, for the only one she would have liked to talk to was there, lying on her bed _covered in copper tears_ and she could still remember their sweet, sweet taste.

Without bothering to toss a blanket over the blonde, she left the room.

Without bothering to check, she did not notice the blonde's hand twitch with life.

* * *

><p><strong>Ten Years Ago<strong>

She could feel the rain bearing down on them, washing away the burgundy that stained the polished floors. There were a few around that were still alive and the woman couldn't help taking in a deep breath to soak it all in, as if absorbing their very souls.

There was something about life that they always found utterly alluring, the way their heart beat ever so steadily. The way their chest rose slowly, indicating that they were relaxed in this pose of theirs. (Or perhaps, they knew that there was nothing else that they could do with their injuries.) Then the few who were panicking, those innocent (the woman scoffed at that, none were innocent in this battle field of theirs). Their hearts were faster than those of a hummingbird, frantically, wastefully, pitifully, trying to find a way out, to survive. Human instinct overriding any sense they had. Friends or foes, they could recognize both lying around them. There was even one man she'd trained with back during her early school years.

Yet, that was not what the woman was focused on. What held their eyes was the life coursing through their veins, until they reached those red stained floor. It was dripping, ever so slowly. The life each of the slain had done the same. The cuts were not as kind as to avoid such a death.

Their thin, normally neutral smile became more focused, more intense, as it slowly curled upwards. Along the many halls, she'd sensed another soul. It was horribly injured, judging by the way the sound of their soft foot fell against the marble floors.

It did not take too long to greet them and pin them down to the cool floor beneath. As a silver blade narrowed the distance between them, the woman could tell that their prey was struggling to stay conscious.

And the woman wanted no more than to take hold of that very life in their hands at that very moment.

A hand pulled back preparing to strike the final blow. Their gaze steadied on theirs, awaiting their reaction. The cool steel went forth,

_And they stared up at them defiantly, horribly confident that they would survive this, no matter what the woman were to do to them,_

stabbing nothing but the wood around them.

There was something that caused them to stay their hand, to spare them. The way their prey stared up at them, unyielding. The pride held in those burgundy eyes of theirs. It was as if they were speaking to them wordlessly, "this is not the end." They were no foe, yet the symbol on their shirt said otherwise. Under those burgundy eyes, they felt lost.

And they never had felt this way before.

They stepped back, and a friend of theirs (whom neither did not even notice until now) noted their reaction to the child and verbally wondered if they should take this prey.

"No." The woman's voice surprised herself and clearly the other who'd come with her. "I am taking her with us."

The other shrugged, figuring that they shouldn't butt in. That didn't stop them from giving the woman a bit of advice though. "Remember, you will have to kill her one day, _Signum._"

And with that, the other left, leaving the woman to stare at the crimson clad child.

* * *

><p><strong>Present<strong>

"How was it?" A honey blonde woman asked, snaking her way to her in order to take hold of the other's hand. They pulled away from her, however, causing her to frown. "Not good I take it then?"

The stoic pinkette said nothing in response, hoping that the other would quit badgering her. The thrill of the hunt was gone. There would be no going back.

"All those years were a waste then, I take it?"

To this, she finally spoke up, never looking in the blonde's eyes. "No." She gave a rather depressed sigh. "There should have been more."

Right then it was as if a light bulb clicked in the blonde woman's mind. The medic shook her head at that, knowing just what she'd meant, "I told you to kill her when you had the chance."

"It wouldn't have been right. She was only a child."

"And you've seen children that are worse than adults."

"Does it change the fact that she was still a child that bore not even a hand against me?"

To this, the medic sighed as well, even going as far to give a small shrug. "... that honor of yours will get you killed one day, you know." The medic said sadly.

"I know that well, Shamal. I know that all too well."

And with that, the two met their destination, the room where their leader rested.

Inside the room, there was a long table used for meetings, such as now, that was able to sit as many as twelve people per side. It made the room appear smaller than it really was, however, with the high ceiling; it was far more intimidating that it should be. The room was always a bit colder than any other.

At the head of the table a slim brunette, just a head shorter than the blonde, approached the two. Quickly, efficiently. Just a blur or a blink, as if they had not just been at the other side of the room a few seconds ago. There was something about the way that she held herself that clearly showed her dominance over them, the shroud of mystery hidden beneath those smoky eyes. As if just sitting at the very head of the long table did not show their leadership.

Momentarily ignoring the medic, she turned to the pinkette. "Have you finished her off then?" She asked bluntly, obtaining the stares of the others in the room, whom the two did not seem to have noticed until that very moment. Among the men and women in the room, there was a particular orange haired woman, whom Signum recognized as the white devil, glaring at her. No matter what answer she were to give, that woman will always be mad at her, she knew this well.

"I have. If she were to survive," there was a gasp among the table to which the brunette quickly turned to glare at them before urging her to continue, "it would be considered a miracle even for one of us."

"... I see. Very well." And with that, she disappeared again, only to reappear at her seat waiting for the two of them to take their seats as well. "Shall we resume our meeting?"

* * *

><p><em>BAM!<em>

The wood splintered just where her head had been, narrowly dodging the punch. "Nanoha." Signum began, but the orange haired woman wasn't listening. Instead, she continued with her barrage of attacks that Signum did not fight back at, only dodging them easily. The woman before her was never that good at dodging strikes. She focused on power, just as Signum had. However, she was far more balanced, taking in her own speed as well. Each strike (had she done so) were never wasted in flailing as wildly as Nanoha had now. "Nanoha."

Signum clicked her tongue, disliking the fact that she may have to use force in order to get this farce to stop. She doubted that Hayate would take kindly to the damages to their surroundings due to the orange haired's wild attacks. "_After all that time, all those years you'd spent together, I can't believe you would kill her off so easily just because you were __ordered_?" She cried openly, the tears now flowing down her cheeks.

As the woman bent down, she focused her power on her thumb and flicked the handle of her sword. Almost like a rocket, it flew up and hit the woman in the middle of the forehead, instantly knocking her out. Her body slumped against Signum's, and the pinkette decided to carry her to their room to rest.

After placing the young woman in bed, she learned in to their ear and murmured, "I'm sorry, Nanoha. For everything."

And with that, Signum left.

* * *

><p>They were not peaceful creatures. She knew it. They knew it. Strife and chaos was what would and always be part of their lives for as long as they live. Their hands will always be stained with blood. That was what it meant to survive these days, and it had been far too long since she could remember when there were days without it.<p>

She leaned back, pressing a hand against the soft fabric on her bed behind her before realizing something chilling. There was supposed to be another one lying behind her, at the very center of the bed. The sanguine sheets were supposed to be tainted dark red now from the blood that would have dried since she had left it, not this shade of dark red from dyes.

"Just how -"

And there they were. Their red eyes clearly focused on them, before smothering them into those red sheets of theirs. A pair of wine red lips smothered against hers.

They fought, they struggled.

Neither one let up.


	2. Rewind: First Observation

**Author: **disintegrate

**Title: **Crimson Rain

**Chapter:** Rewind: First Observation

**Genre: **supernatural/romance

**Summary: **She was supposed to be dead. Fortunately or unfortunately, you hadn't killed her.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Nanoha or its characters. In fact, I suppose this is completely AU in the way I might as well have used any sort of characters to fit its roles.

**Warning: **Expect violent themes, fights, vampire like people who are not vampires. Demons, I suppose, would be a more correct word for them. But, this world of mine is completely unique. It doesn't take place in any well known realm. Just, well, you'll see as we go along, ne?

These first few chapters, the rewind arc will be setting up just what happened in the first chapter. It'll focus more on Signum's point of view rather than Fate's (although it will still be told in third person) for the first third of the rewind arc.

... oh, and there's a reason why Fate is called "Child" or "the child" for the first few chapters. Bare with it please.

* * *

><p>The first thing she notices about the child is how her eyes never change. Red like wine, they stare up at her and into her soul. The stance she takes is defensive, apprehensive, questioning (but very crude, untrained, reckless).<p>

She doesn't understand why the woman took her in and neither does the woman.

* * *

><p>Traditionally, Signum would have tied her down or placed her somewhere she couldn't hurt anyone (including herself). Instead, here the child was, unbound and free (and right about to hurt herself again).<p>

The swordswoman watched as the child tried to prepare a stance. It was futile, Signum knew. While her wounds were completely healed now (well, other than her leg), the child hadn't had any rest. Her stance, as awkward as it was, had been slanted in such a way that Signum could easily take her down with one grab. So, there was no chance for her to escape if she tried. However, if she kept this up, the child's leg might heal improperly and she'd gain an awkward gait.

"Sit."

She ordered. Like always, it was mechanical, cold, but there was always that sense of mockery that underling her tone.

"…"

The child didn't like it, defiantly keeping with her odd stance. But, she wasn't moving now. She wasn't fidgeting in place. The child didn't trust the woman one bit and, after a second's rest, she prepared to find some way out of there. Signum's next words kept her still.

"If you keep moving, you'll never walk properly again."

The child frowned and looked down at her mangled leg. Finding that she couldn't quite remember just how she had gotten it. (Signum wasn't going to tell her that she'd gotten it from trying to kick her in the face but missing and hitting the wall earlier when she'd tried to wake up the child.)

"I'll fix it."

She nodded, easing up now. As Signum inched closer to the blonde, she saw those haunting burgundy eyes stared up at her once more, illustrating her confusion. It reminded her of the moment she changed her out of those blood-soaked clothes. Scars, she knew was not created by her clan, intricately etched the child's body. She recognized them as some sort of spell, ancient and complicated.

_Just what were they trying to do?_

* * *

><p>The next day was no better for the two. The pinkette had found solstice in the couch while the child had taken her bed. (An action that confused the child dearly.) It gave her time to think, as she stared up at the ceiling. She didn't have to worry about the child escaping. The blonde would not be able to survive outside of the door for too long and if she managed to escape the grasp of her clan members, the halls were the sort that led one to wherever the clan leader wishes if she so pleased to do so. Very few can avoid her will. As for her own safety, she could manage.<p>

Never a heavy sleeper, she heard just when strange noises came from her bedroom.

_Riiiip._

It shook of whatever sleep she had started to obtain and she strained to listen to them.

"... hah." The child panted in her sleep. "N -."

A brow rose in confusion as she got up and made her way to the bedroom.

_Tud._

Her pace quickened.

* * *

><p>What she saw genuinely surprised her. Her room, once immaculately clean, was practically torn apart. She supposed she was lucky that there weren't many things to begin with, but what really took her by surprise was how all the sheets on her bed were practically ripped off. Sheets were scattered everywhere. Some were torn; others looked barely in better shape.<p>

And, little away, the child laid the floor. Her body curled up into a tight, little ball. It was easy to tell, from her whimpers, that she was fighting off a nightmare and losing the battle.

Slowly, Signum approached to wake her, but as if sensing the other's presence the child shirked away, shivering.

"_Mother_."

Her eyes widened in surprise. The word she'd used was in another language, one that Signum had not heard since her childhood years fumbling with the way of the sword.

_An ancient? But she barely looks older than Mistress!_

Her hand went to her sword, realizing just how powerful the child actually was now. She should have cut her down right then and wash her hands of this entire thing. It was dangerous to keep her alive. Ancients were unstable, unreliable, and one of the worst enemies to face.

The child whimpered once more, and Signum's hand slacked.

It took all effort the woman had to fix the bed, carry the child back, and tuck her in.

* * *

><p>The events repeated themselves every day for the next week and a half. Each time, Signum was unsure as to how to respond. Her doubts grew more and more as she repeated them. Whether out of pity or duty, she was beginning to forget the reason why she bothered keeping the child alive.<p>

* * *

><p>While the nights were always a terror, daylight hours were spent gathering gather more info about the clan the child was from. (She was a soldier, a damn good one at that, but because of her rank, because she was often sent out to kill without discrimination, information as to those who met the end of her blade was kept hidden from her, deemed unnecessary for her to think about.)<p>

It took a while, twisting the arms of several to get her access to the deeper parts of Great Library. Its keeper was not happy about allowing her or the child inside, but they knew better to go against orders, especially when they were allowed to use their blade had the met any obstacle.

Finding the book, on the other hand, was surprisingly quick. Once the swordwoman found her way into Great Library's lower levels, the books had practically been laid out before her. Of course, her instincts were to check if this were a trap, to see if the bound books were tampered with, but everything seemed to be in order. Although, the child did not like the books that could have held answers as to her origins. Instead, there was another pile of books especially for her. To the child's displeasure, all were children's books on learning to read their language.

Signum's gaze softened as she watched the child flip one of the pages open. It must have been her mistress that left them there, twisting one of her own rules to help them. (She didn't notice how the child was struggling to read the books and focused on the ones before her.) It didn't take long for the first entry to come up.

_Red, the color of life itself, was given to every one of our kind when we used our god given abilities. There was one clan though, the origin of all others, the strongest of all kinds, that kept their blood stained eyes even under normal circumstances. _

_They are called the Anathema._

Signum's brow knotted in confusion. How can such a supposedly powerful can get extinct (or nearly, considering the little bundle that was mimicking her actions) so easily? She flipped through the pages, finding nothing of use before switching to another.

_In the beginning, there was no clan. There were only elements and the creator. The creator used all of the elements in order to create The Clan. Their powers rivaled the creator. However, their bodies were not suited for the power they were given. It drove them mad. It split them apart ... in the very literal of sense. One became two and two became four. Their power divided along with them, as did their memories and their essence._

_From this, the clans we know today were born. Even among these clans there was one that retained as much power as The Clan. They say that they were the only one of The Clan that did not split as must as the others had. _

_Remnants of this clan are little. Their ability to procreate greatly damaged over the years. A single child in twenty years is considered rare. Due to their instability, many children and older adults do not last. Their mentality failing them far quicker than any other clan. Ancients of this clan are considered, not only dangerous, but a rarity due to this._

_Rumors have it that there is a nest of them still alive, hiding from the other clans. While they had power, it was not enough to make up for the short comings of their control. _

_Addendum: _

_They say that they earned their permanently blood stained eyes due to one of their ancestors attempt to killing the creator. The intensity of the attacks burned their eyes, eternally giving them the power hungry eyes, showing how "God" had marked them, punishing them for their actions. _

Signum mentally sighed as she closed the book. The answers she found were not what she was looking for. The child was doomed. The lashes of power the child had displayed were lucky not to have harmed her. Even now – the swordswoman watched the child play – she was in danger.

She saw the wisps of electricity trailing over the child's body and wondered if it hurt her. It was hard to tell. The child barely made any noises or sounds when they were awake. Acting far younger than her physical body appeared, the child responded to Signum with the strangest combination of actions, most of these resulted in the child turning bright red. Whether this was from exhaustion or embarrassment was something Signum was not sure.

Yet, there was something about it that gave her hope. Perhaps, she was young enough (blank enough) to be taught and trained to be useful.

"Child."

The blonde looked up from the (upside down) book of hers and stared at the swordswoman blankly. It was clear to see that she knew just what the other was about to say.

"Tomorrow, we will find out just what you can do."

There was a crease on her brow, but Signum knew it was not because the child was confused. She knew that it was because she was worried.

* * *

><p>For the language Fate's speaking, originally I wanted to stick with Greek or Latin. But then I'd have to stick with it throughout the entire fic and I don't want to butcher the language. So, instead, you get to see all of Fate's ancient language spoken in italics.<p> 


End file.
